


Docked at the Dock

by mariadperiad20



Series: Foray into B99 [9]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Holt is a DadTM, Hurt Jake Peralta, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:18:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22300150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariadperiad20/pseuds/mariadperiad20
Summary: Jake barely had enough time to snap his mouth closed as tightly as possible before he hit the water.The moment he made contact with it, it felt like every muscle froze up at once. The cold soaked to his bones in an instant, sending a numbness so cold it burned coursing through every nerve in his body.Request fic!
Relationships: Ray Holt & Jake Peralta, mentioned jake/amy
Series: Foray into B99 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1320137
Comments: 35
Kudos: 784





	Docked at the Dock

Jake vaulted over an empty crate, feet pounding against the concrete of the shipping dock. His tie and badge hit against his chest with every step, while he held his gun in both hands.

The perp was still in his sight, running down the docks, and Jake kept after him, Holt not far behind.

Jake wasn’t entirely happy that his Captain was tagging along with him. Again.

But everyone was swamped with work - cases were coming out of nowhere. With absolutely no respect for the police who had to go chasing after them in freezing temperatures, mind you. And this perp was a dangerous one - he’d run a drug ring that killed seven people - that they knew of - and killed a CI in the meantime. Jake was, in a way, grateful not to be going after him alone, but he felt that he could have taken him down himself.

Especially since all the guy was doing was _running_.

The perp - Zach Trent, an absolutely terrible bad guy name - rounded a corner behind one of the stacks of shipping containers, vanishing from sight.

Jake would have cursed, except he didn’t want to waste his breathe, instead trying to run even faster, coming around the corner to-

_Smack_

The handle of a gun whipped across his face, hitting his temple. Jake’s head jerked to the side, spots exploding across his vision. When his eyes refocused, a gun was pointed directly at his head.

“Drop your gun, pig.” Trent said coldly.

Jake schooled his face into a neutral expression, ignoring the pain bursting through his head and pulsing blood dripping down the side of his face. He bent down, placing his gun on the ground, before raising his hands.

“Kick it to me.”

Jake looked at Trent, then glanced behind him. No Holt in sight, just the cement dock leading up to the edge of the water, barricaded only by a small chain sprawling between stout pillars. He turned back forward to Trent, grimaced, and then placed his shoe on the weapon.

And kicked it into the water.

Trent didn’t rage. He didn’t yell, or get pissed off. He remained calm, cool. Didn’t speak for a moment, but, when he did, it was with a tone that conveyed a sense of absolute fury.

“Go in and get it.”

“What?” Jake asked, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s like 20 degrees out, man. And I’m _pretty_ sure that’s not how gravity works.”

“I don’t care.” Trent shrugged, flicking the gun towards the water. “Jump in or I’ll shoot you. Your choice.”

“Is there a third option?” Jake asked, offering a grin.

Trent lowered his gun, and then fired.

Jake felt the impact before the pain. Felt himself crumple before the pain, reaching out to catch himself on the side of one of the containers before he hit the ground. Blood blossomed through the bullet wound in his leg - it was right above his knee, to the side.

“Damn.” Trent sounded amused, “I was aiming for the knee.” He cocked his gun. “Jump in, before I shoot a second time. And I won’t miss.”

He slowly walked Jake back, towards the edge of the water. Jake glanced down at the murky depths, only non-frozen because of the waves, and grimaced.

“Look, man, can’t we-”

Trent pushed him in.

Jake barely had enough time to snap his mouth closed as tightly as possible before he hit the water.

The moment he made contact with it, it felt like every muscle froze up at once. The cold soaked to his bones in an instant, sending a numbness so cold it burned coursing through every nerve in his body.

Jake knew he was supposed to move, that he had to get out of the water, but it was like his body had frozen the moment it touched the freezing cold. It could have been anywhere from a second to an eternity before he managed to force his limbs into action. He flailed in a limp pantomime of a swim, body barely responding to his mental commands, trying to struggle his way to the edge of the docks.

With any luck, Trent had used this time to make his escape - Jake found himself hoping that Holt hadn’t managed to find him, that he’d just gotten away and they could go after him later. Especially now that Holt wouldn’t have backup.

Jake’s hand scraped against cement, and he reached up, grabbing at the edge of the dock. The air bit into his soaking wet arm, and his fingers scrabbled against the mostly smooth concrete, unable to find purchase.

Jake felt his lungs begin to burn, but he was more concerned with the fact that his legs were almost completely numb - he didn’t even feel the bullet wound at all - and it was getting harder and harder to make his arms move.

Jake reached up again, managing to grab what felt to be the small chain that was supposed to stop people from falling into the water. Ironic, Jake knew. He mustered his strength, flinging his other arm up to grab it with the other hand as well, pulling upwards as best he could with his achingly numb muscles.

Jake dragged his head above the water, gasping in air. It was so cold it _hurt_ , and his attempts to breathe immediately turned into coughing. Then, hacking coughs, so hard that his arms shook, and he began to slip back under the water.

He couldn’t even try to haul himself out of the water, because it was all he could do to keep his grip in the first place. The wind blowing against his hands had effectively frozen them over completely, and Jake could feel his arms beginning to give out.

He gritted his teeth, fighting back another cough, and used every last ounce of strength he had to try to haul himself onto the dock.

He couldn’t. His body felt like it weighed a million pounds, and he just… didn’t have the strength.

He was going to fall back under the water.

He was going to die.

Jake didn’t want to die here. He and Amy were happy, Charles had a son now… everything was supposed to be going right.

Jake wondered if someone would find his body. They’d probably assume he got kidnapped by Trent - unless there was a trail of blood leading to the water, in which case they’d find his body a lot faster.

Jake would have grimaced, except his face had gone numb a while ago.

Holt would feel so _guilty_ if Jake died while on patrol with him.

Jake’s father had abandoned him. And now, Jake felt like he was abandoning Holt, the man he had grown to see as a father figure.

Jake didn’t want to die.

But no matter how hard he tried to stay above water, his grip was slowly loosening, his coughing making it harder and harder to breathe. His head slipped lower in the water, and he coughed at the seawater that was splashing its way into his mouth.

Nothing hurt. Not the cold air on his arms, not the icy water covering his body. Even the coughing was no longer agonizing on his lungs.

It was almost… peaceful.

Or, at least, his body was. Jake could feel his mind racing, begging to stay alive, to keep gripping on, that he wanted to see the team again, but his body had long since stopped listening to him.

Jake’s fingers slipped, and he crashed back underwater. He tried to reach up, but his body just… wasn’t responding to him anymore. His arms were limp, even as he focused all his brainpower just on making a single finger twitch.

Then, he felt something wrapping around his forearms, lifting him up.

They were hands.

His head broke over the surface of the water once more, and this time he didn’t even start breathing, just immediately breaking into a coughing fit. His body shook, a mixture of the force of the coughing and the absolutely bitter cold air biting into his skin.

His sopping clothes did little in the way of offering him warmth, and Jake was unresisting as those same hands peeled off his soaked jacket and flannel, and draped something else onto him.

“-ake? Jake? Jake!” He slowly became aware of a voice calling his name, distinctly edged with panic. Something about it was unusual, out of place, but Jake couldn’t think of why.

Jake blinked, forcing his eyes to focus on the person speaking. It was Holt.

Holt, who was looking at him with actual _fear_ in his eyes, stared back.

“Jake, you need to focus on me. I called backup, but response time is normally approximately four minutes to this location. It is imperative that you remain alert until that time. Do you understand?” Holt was ruthlessly shoving his expression back into his normal one, although the distress was still clearly painted across his face just the same.

Jake nodded stiffly, trying to figure out how to make his mouth move. He opened it to speak, but only triggered another coughing fit, sending his body rocking forward with the force of trying to expel his lungs from his body.

Holt gripped Jake’s shoulders, keeping him upright, as he swayed unsteadily.

“‘m sorry, dad.” Jake said quietly, “I didn’t… mean to get… this.”

“It’s alright. You have nothing to apologize for.” Holt’s grip was firm, almost painfully so, although Jake assumed that might have to do with the tingling covering his entire body.

“Sorry, dad.” Jake repeated, hand clumsily grabbing Holt’s arm. He was trying to convey everything in those two words - that he had lost Trent, that he had gotten injured, that there was a decent chance he was going to freeze to death in his dad’s arms, that Holt was going to feel guilt for the rest of his life if he did.

“It’s alright, son.” Holt said softly, “You’re going to be alright.”

“‘m cold.”

“I know. The paramedics are almost here.”

Jake wanted to respond, but his teeth were chattering too hard, so instead he just kept blinking against the cold. His eyelids were getting heavy, but he tried to focus on Holt’s face. It swam in and out of vision, and Jake felt something trickle down his face. Whether it was water from his sopping hair, or blood from his wound, or tears, he wasn’t sure.

Whatever it was, Jake wanted to wipe it away, but his arms weren’t responding to him again.

His hand was limp against Holt’s arm, and Jake was vaguely aware that Holt’s shirt arms were soaked in water as well, and that there were splashes of it across his front. If he was cold, he made no indication of it.

Jake wondered where his jacket went, before realizing it must have been the thing Holt had wrapped around his body.

Jake felt his head begin to loll forward, and he snapped it back up, Holt’s concerned face looking back at him.

“‘ramedics are b’d at thre jobs.” Jake mumbled, “‘ting two stars n yelp.”

Jake heard the sound of sirens, of footsteps. Hands that weren’t Holt’s were grabbing him, the blur of motion making Jake closed his eyes against the dizzying spin of the world. He felt Holt’s hands slip from his shoulders, and Jake reached out blindly, arm limp.

“Dad,” Jake coughed thickly, “Dad. ‘on’t go. Please. Dad.”

He felt a hand grab his own, firm and reassuring. Holt’s.

“I’m here, son.” Holt said affirmingly. “I’m here.”

Jake felt a smile spread over his face - well, more of an aching creep that cracked his lips into a stretched, numb version of a smile - and he felt his mind begin to slip off.

“Son? Son?” Holt’s voice was growing increasingly concerned, and Jake knew he should open his eyes, assuage his concerns. But the movement made him feel sick, and Jake didn’t want to have to look at anything.

He could feel the paramedics peeling off his clothes, covering him with a blanket. It must have been heated, it was so unbelievably warm. But Jake still couldn’t stop shivering.

“Make them stop.” Jake groaned, “‘t hurts.”

Holt said something, in a voice so cold and _Captain_ that the hands on him immediately vanished, and the sound of movement around him ceased entirely.

“Son?”

“Moving. It makes,” Jake took in a breath, “Makes my head hurt.”

“Open your eyes, Jake.” Jake could hear Holt’s voice tinge with concern. Nothing even close to the actual humanoid panic as before, but it conveyed his concern.

Jake pried open his eyes, blinking at the light. It bounced from one eye to the next, and Jake winced at it, a motion indistinguishable from his body’s now-constant shaking.

“Can,” Jake twitched under the blanket, “Can I go home, now? Please. I don’t want… to be here.”

Holt’s eyebrow twitched, and he looked at someone past Jake, seemingly for approval. He probably could’ve turned and seen their reaction, but Jake didn’t have the effort to move.

After a moment, Holt turned back to face Jake. “You cannot.”

Jake felt his face fall a little. How pathetic he must have seemed, soaked through the skin, teeth chattering, body trembling, skin probably a shade of blue, asking permission to leave because he simply didn’t have the strength to leave himself.

“I won’t leave either, son.” Holt assured, patting Jake on the hand with his.

Jake smiled tiredly, but, this time, his muscles ached but it felt like it could have been a little bit less. “Can I sleep now?”

Holt glanced up again, then back down.

“Yes. You can.”

“Will you be there when I wake up?” Jake asked petulantly, hating himself for sounding so insecure.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Jake closed his eyes, and let himself slip into the wonderful abyss of sleep, knowing that Holt wouldn’t let him drown.

**Author's Note:**

> This is another request fic! If you want to request a fic, send one to me on tumblr (same username), or in a comment (as this one was). ~~I would prefer on tumblr because they're easier to track~~
> 
> Please consider kudos & comments <3
> 
>  _Total Request_ : Omg thank u so much for blessing this world with jake son angst. There can never be enough of it. Are you still taking requests? If so then do you remember that episode where Jake almost got kicked out of his apartment and the cold opening for that one was Jake calling Holt dad? Ya but what if he actually ended up on the streets and was to embarrassed/scared to admit it. Have Holt find him, make Jake almost die from hypothermia (or have him die if you wanna make me cry) just make it depressing thx :D
> 
> As you can tell, I did take this fic in a slightly different direction than the request - it did involve hypothermia, but I bypassed some of the episode and real-world logistics of the prompt - but only after I had struggled writing the exact prompt.


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